Undeserved Love
by djwolfgirl
Summary: Scar returns to his home, Ishbal, after Amestria is saved from the first humonculus's plan to consume God. He expects peace and calm-you know, the usual- but he didn't expect to meet Ericka Mustang, a girl who's had a hard life with no obvious side affects. Ericka Mustang is a half breed looking for some love from her mother's country. Will she get it? Please enjoy and review!
1. The Meeting

Undeserved Love

Scar was walking on one of the dirt roads of his home country, Ishbal, and was looking upon the town he was passing through. Its name he did not know, nor particularly cared for. All he knew was that his brethren lived there, and he could feel Ishbala's loving presence everywhere. He waved to some men who were carrying bricks, no doubt to rebuild their house, when he heard some shouting off in the distance. It quickly came towards him until it was audible enough to understand.

"Come back here, you thief!" yelled a chubby Ishbalan man of about thirty as he chased after a contrastingly smaller figure in a black cloak, who appeared to be holding something.

Scar stopped and prepared to halt the duo when the cloaked figure bumped into him. He looked down to see a young girl, of about twenty, fall onto the ground. The movement caused a dust-cloud to ascend towards him. He wiped away the smoke in time to see her trying to gather the bread and fruit she had, apparently, stolen. From what Scar could see, the girl had short curly blonde hair, white skin, and she had a healthy well built (for a girl, that is) body. Everything from how she looked to how she moved screamed Amestrian. The chubby man soon caught up and, before Scar could help her up, grabbed her by the arm. She made an obvious attempt to cover her face with her hair as the man yelled at her.

Scar put a hand up to silence the man and asked, "Has she stolen from you before, sir?"

The chubby man stared at Scar in astonishment and said, "No, but we are all trying to-"

The hand rose again. Scar looked at the girl and said, "Then she will be left with a warning."

The girl's head shot up and as he met her eyes every thought of her being an Amestrian vanished.

Ericka heard the words the Ishbalan priest said, and she understood them completely, but she was still dumbfounded. She never thought Ishbalans were mean and inhospitable, but ever since she came to Ishbal, months before, she was met with cold stares and mean comments. She didn't blame them; it was hard to forgive people who tore your whole world down. She knew she had nothing to do with the war, but that didn't stop the fact that she looked like an Amestrian in every point except her eyes; her red eyes. She knew that it was hard to see the color of eyes from the distance people would keep, and she didn't want anyone to realize she was part Ishbalan either. She grew up as an Amestrian; she didn't know the way of her Ishbalan ancestors. Of course, she didn't want to claim to be something she knew nothing about. She was good at being an Amestrian, though. As long as her eyes were hidden, no one asked whether she was a full blooded Amestrian or not.

She looked up at the Ishbalan priest. He was a stereotypical Ishbalan; the only difference was the tattoos on his visible arm. They were alchemical tattoos and she recognized them instantly; she studied all kinds of alchemy before, hoping to follow her half-brother's footsteps and become a state alchemist. 'Course, after the whole "try-to-destroy-the-world" thing, she decided the idea didn't sound so promising.

There. There was the reaction she was so used to when people saw her eyes; yet, there was something different. Most people would be cursing her out by now, but he just stood there with his eyes wide.

_Ok, seriously, didn't anyone tell this guy not to stare?_ She thought.

"You just gonna stand there, or what?" she asked, annoyed to the pique of losing her mind; or maybe it was anxiety.

Scar composed himself and asked, "What is your name, young girl?"

"Young girl?" the girl asked as she wrenched herself from the man's grasp and rubbed the area where he had grabbed her. "I'm twenty, thank you. But I'll answer your question, priest. The name's Ericka. Ericka Mustang."

Scar tried to keep his cool appearance, but he was dying to know the answer to the next question.

"You said your last name was Mustang. Are you, by chance, related to a Roy Mustang?" he asked.

Ericka flinched; she didn't expect this man to know her brother.

She tensed as she cautiously answered, "Yes; he's my half-brother on my father's side."

Scar stood, still with surprise. He hadn't expected Mustang to have siblings; he always thought Mustang an only child. Scar studied Ericka's countenance and could not find a single expression or attitude mark similar with that of the colonel's; of course, he had only seen a few sides of Mustang and those sides, as Scar believed, never included a strange annoyance and cautiousness Ericka was showing.

Ericka waited for the priest's response to her answer; in fact, you could say it was killing her. Something about this priest said that he wasn't going to react as other Ishbalans would have –and have- reacted to learning that she was the younger sister of a state alchemist that helped destroy Ishbal in the war. She could feel her anxiety grow and grow in the wait; yet, another feeling seemed to tug at her.

It was curiosity. She wanted to know his name as well; she wanted to know _him_. He looked interesting enough, and no doubt that he was handsome with his white hair, tan skin, and piercing red eyes. She tried to read those eyes, and within them she saw serene feelings in how things were at that point in time, yet they were hiding something; something that pained him, something he could not get over. She wanted to know what it was; she _needed_ to know this man's story.

She opened her lips, wanting to ask him, but, thinking better of it, closed them. She didn't need to know, didn't _want_ to know, anyone on a personal level besides her brother, Roy, his lieutenant (should be wife) Riza Hawkeye, and her foster mother, Madame Christmas.

She started to notice how big and obnoxious the silence was and decided to break it with an annoyed movement of the hands to the hip and, "So, are you going to take my warning away, now that you know who I'm related to?"

Another grip of her arm by the chubby man.

"How dare you talk to a holy man of Ishbala that way, you insolent thief?" yelled the man.

Ericka winced at his overly strong grip. She knew she'd have a big bruise there in morning's time. She also knew it was useless to try to get out of his grip again, since it had become even stronger with anger. Ericka was a strong girl, no doubt, but her whole life she had spent being pushed around and abused by people who hated her face. She couldn't even find comfort from her blood relatives, excluding Roy; she had to go to her foster family if she wanted love. Yes, Madame Christmas wasn't the most doting mother, but she did get the point across that she loved and cared for Ericka. She also got the point across of how protective she was of Ericka when she nearly beat some poor kid to death because he made fun of Ericka- no, seriously, he had to go to the hospital.

Ericka took the abuse as she always had: in silence. Earlier, if you're wondering, her wrenching from the grasp had been because her pride in her age allowed her to find that strength. Now, her pride, her ego, none of it was fueling her strength and movements. Now, the force of repetition came in. she expected the priest to just stare or walk away, but he didn't.

Scar rushed to Ericka's aid, seeing clearly that if the man were to merely shake it, her arm would break. He placed his one hand on the man's hand and said, in a gentle yet piercing voice, "Peace, brother, even to those who we wish to fight with."

The man looked wide eyed at Scar and said, "But, brother, she has spoken to you with disrespect; she cannot go unpunished!"

"She has, but it was not you she has wronged, but me; and I have already forgiven her. Now, brother, leave us and take the food she has stolen back to your place of business; I will do to her what I see fit," Scar coolly replied.

"But-"

"No. It is my decision if what to do to her, not yours. Now, if you please."

The man let go of Ericka's arm and picked up the bread and fruit. Scar watched as the man hurried down the road, leaving them alone.

Ericka rubbed her arm and thanked whoever was listening that she wasn't left with anything more than a bruise. She looked up at the priest who had a good foot on her. His steady and strong gaze was fixated on her. She feared the worst.

"Hey, I'm not willing to give my body to you or anything in return for your help, ok?" she said cautiously; something about this priest threw her off.

The priest looked astonished, as if the thought never even crossed his mind, which was, of course, another shot at her ego.

"What? Am I too Amestrian for you to sleep with me, is that it?" she yelled in annoyance.

The priest looked bewildered, as if she threw him off. She stared at him, and him, her, for a while until Ericka noticed something. The priest only had one arm; _one_ arm. Her inward need to know his story gnawed at her more ravishly. It took about every last amount of energy she had left not to give in to it.

A grumbling noise. Ericka didn't need to ask what it was; she already knew. It was the sound of her stomach turning over itself from the lack of food. She instinctively grabbed her stomach to try to muffle the noise. She felt as if she was about to hurl. She hadn't eaten for two weeks. What could she do, though? She had no money, and nobody would give her a job. She should've contacted Roy, but, just like begging, her ego was too massive to do that.

She started to feel light-headed and dizzy. She grabbed for something to catch her as the world went black.


	2. Is It Really The End?

Undeserved Love Chapter Two

Ericka woke up and said the first thing in her mind, "I'm hungry~~~~!"

"I'm not surprised; you did go two weeks without food," a feminine voice said at the foot of her bed.

She looked towards the voice and saw a young Ishbalan girl of about sixteen wetting a towel.

"It's a good thing Sir Scar found you when he did," the girl said as she placed the cold towel on Ericka's head.

"Sir Scar?" Ericka asked.

The girl nodded before saying, "The priest who carried you here."

Ericka immediately pictured the Ishbalan priest she saw before fainting. Just as if the image in her mind was the priest's cue, he came inside the room.

"I see you've awakened, Ericka," he said as he coolly took a seat next to her head.

Ericka slowly rose to meet him; she didn't like looking up at people, it was a stab at her ego to do so.

"No, no, no! You mustn't rise, miss! You are still quite weak," the young girl said.

Ericka put her hand up and said, "I'm fine; I've had to go through worse."

The girl looked over to the priest looking for help. He nodded and said, "Don't fret, Isabella; she is a strong woman."

Isabella nodded and left the room without another word. Ericka looked over at the priest and asked,

"She called you Scar; is that your name?"

"That's what people call me, yes."

"But it's not your real name?"

"Yes and no; my birth name, given by Ishbala, has been long lost."

Ericka was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. She began tapping her fingers when she asked,

"OK, so what's _that_ name, then?"

"It is long lost and has no importance. I have strayed from the road of Ishbala and that part of me has died. Therefore, that name no longer is of use to me or of use for anyone to call me that."

"… So, what am I supposed to call you?"

"Whichever name you please."

"You piss me off, you know that?"

His reply was a kind smile.

Ericka crossed her arms as she began to think of something to call him. Her eyes drifted to alchemical tattoos on his only arm.

"Alchemic Priest," she said.

Scar became utterly confused. Most people had stuck with the name "Scar" when he replied as he just did.

"Why do you pick that name?" he asked.

She pointed at his arm.

"The tattoos; they're a cross between alchemy and alkahestry. That particular tattoo translates most closely to the design of creation," she replied.

She looked him in the eyes and continued, "And your attire is that of an Ishbalan priest. Therefore, your name is Alchemic Priest; Priest, for short. Unless you'd prefer me to call you 'Scar'."

Scar stared at her, wondering how she can be so different. He had never dealt with someone like her before. He looked into her eyes as she stared at his and read them. They showed the guard of someone who's been hurt and who refuses to be hurt again. The red in them burned as if lit by an overwhelming flame, and her pupils looked innocently for a sense of comfort and familiarity in his. They took a look of disappointment as she looked away. Scar deeply wished she would allow him to keep searching, keep looking, through her eyes. He felt a sense of curiosity he had never felt before to know the things she kept hidden behind her fiery red eyes that reminded him so much of his before the war. He smiled.

"Alchemic Priest, or Priest, is fine. I do believe food is long overdue for you, though," he said.

Ericka's stomach growled in response; this, in turn, caused blood to rush up to her cheek. Priest laughed in response; a loud, full, manly laugh. He stood up and held out his hand to her.

"Here, we can go see what the cooks are cooking. Then, afterwards, we can take you to my house so you can rest more peacefully," he said with a smile.

Ericka took his hand, and soon after, his arm, and they walked out of the room. She was met with a variety of smells, all that made her mouth wet. Priest led her to a place where they were handing out food. When they got up to the line, they were met with smiles. An elderly Ishbalan lady of about fifty was fixing the bowls and handing it to people. When she saw Ericka, she smiled and said,

"Ah, she walks. Ishbala has truly blessed you. Here, I'll give you extra."

The lady poured another ladle full of stew and handed it to Ericka. She fixed another bowl and handed this to Scar.

"Careful, now; don't eat it too fast or you'll get sick again," an Ishbalan man, of about the same age as the lady, said as she handed Ericka and Scar a piece of bread each.

Ericka fought the urge to eat the food as they were walking to a bench to sit upon. They sat down and, before she picked up her spoon to eat, Ericka looked around and felt a sense of warmth and love all around her. She looked towards Priest.

"Why is everyone being so nice to me? Everywhere I've been in Ishbala, I've been met with nothing but glares and sneers," she asked him.

"These people have seen you weak and near death. To see you up and moving has proved to them that you are a loved child of Ishbala; the people before probably felt threatened by your Amestrian appearance," he replied as he pulled his bread in half and begun to dip one half in his stew.

Ericka imitated, not sure of the polite way to eat in the company of Ishbalans. She took a bite of the dipped bread and began to chew slowly, remembering something she read in a medical book about hunger victims and how, when they finally obtain food, that they should eat slowly and take five to ten minute breaks between small portions of food less they become sick again. The bread was that of a regular white loaf, but the stew was different from what she had eaten before. It was chunk full of vegetables and some fruits native to Ishbala (cactus flesh, potatoes, etc.), but the soup with which they stirred around and soaked up was different. It was citrusy and spicy, yet it had a sweet and smooth taste at the same time.

"Priest?" she asked, "What kind of soup is this?"

Priest swallowed a bite and said, "A soup that's been a part of Ishbal as long as Ishbala has. It is supposed to heal and restore energy. The elderly couple you saw before has been making this all week for the workers."

Ericka made a small "O" with her mouth and turned back to her food. She picked up her spoon and took a bite when two little girls came up to her. They held up two baskets filled with fruit and smiled brightly at Ericka.

"Mommy said to give these to you. They're not much, but she hopes it will work," the one on the right said.

Ericka looked at the baskets of fruit. They were full of grapes, bananas, apples, kiwis, and Ericka's favorite: strawberries. She took the baskets and placed them at her feet. She reached down into one and took a strawberry. She bit into it and was surprised at its perfect ripeness; it satisfied her sweet tooth, yet awakened her senses with its tartness. She picked up another one and handed it to Priest. He looked at it with surprise.

"The girls' mother picked that for you," he said, holding up his hand.

"Yes, she did; but I still have to pay you back. This is the first step," she replied, putting it in his hand.

"Pay me back? For what?" he asked, pushing the strawberry back to her.

"For saving me," she replied, pushing back.

"You don't have to pay me back, there's no debt; anyone would've done that," he replied, again pushing it; their fingertips barely touching now.

"Yes, I do; and no, they wouldn't of. Look at me. You said it yourself, I look like an Amestrian. I'm sure these people wouldn't be nice to me if they met me under any circumstance; and I don't blame them. That's just the way humans are. Now, eat the strawberry or I'll force feed you; and I know medical alchemy so don't try me," she replied, taking her other hand to close his around the strawberry.

Their eyes met and the world around them started to dissipate. Their faces came closer and closer, hands still touching each other, and both started to close their eyes. Just as they were about to kiss, a commotion from the real world made them realize what they were about to do.

Ericka blushed immensely and quickly turned away. She had the urge to say something; but stuffed her mouth with stew to prevent it, fearing it'd be something even more embarrassing.

Scar stayed in the position he was a moment before turning away. He sighed, regretting that he was about to kiss a complete stranger. He glanced over to her as she stuffed a large spoonful in her mouth. Something about her caught his attention, stealing it from everything else in the world. He glanced up.

_What are you planning, Ishbala?_ he prayed.

Scar looked towards the commotion and saw that a pot of stew had spilled on someone, burning them. Ericka seemed to notice this as well because placed her food down- since it was too precious to her to spill it in the heat of the moment, he figured- and ran towards the crowd trying to help the man. Scar chased after her, catching up just as she started pushing people out of her way.

"I'm a doctor!" Ericka yelled, causing people to give her a pathway. She dropped down to the man and noticed that his skin was starting to take on second degree burns. She pulled out of her pocket a piece of chalk and began making an alchemical circle around him.

"Don't use that accursed power on me!" the burning man hissed.

"I either use this 'accursed power' or you go skinless," she replied.

"I'd rather be dead than to be healed by the devil's power!" he exclaimed.

"As if I'd give you that choice," she stubbornly replied.

Ericka finished the circle and pictured what she needed to do. She placed her hands down and watched as the blue light healed the man. Once it was complete, she stood and turned towards the crowd that had become silent. A tomato was thrown at her with a, "How dare you!"

She raised her arms up in a "surrender" movement.

"Do what you want; say what you want. But before you do, look at the facts: I saved this man; my _alchemy_ saved his life. If it was the devil's power, and you are all God's people, then why did it work on him? Why didn't it just kill him?" she stated.

Silence was the response. She put her arms down and walked out of the crowd. She grabbed the two baskets of fruit and walked towards the road. She was stopped by a strong arm. She turned back towards Scar.

"Where are you going?" he asked sincerely.

"To the reason I came here in the first place; to my birth town. I'm gonna find my mother's grave and say my goodbyes. And then, I'm gonna find whatever's left of my family," she replied.

She put both baskets in one hand and held out the other to shake Scar's with a smile.

"Nice meeting you, Alchemic Priest," she said.

He grabbed her hand and returned her smile with a sad one.

"I was hoping we could learn more about each other, but if you have to go then I won't stop you," he replied as they shook hands.

"Yeah, well, things don't always turn out like we hope they will; I've had to learn that the hard way."

And with that, Ericka went on her way, leaving Scar to watch her walk away.

_Maybe I never got to know him as much as I like, but I did get to know his name, or more like _a_ name,_ she thought as she walked.

Indeed, this seemed to be the end of their story, but is it really?


	3. ReUniting

Undeserved Love Part 3

Reunion

_Two Years Later_

Ericka got up from her bed and walked into the kitchen/living room area of her house. She went to the table, grabbed a piece of bread -which her neighbor had made for her- and took a bite out of it. She walked to the opening and lifted the curtain. She looked out into the large town filled with housings, food stands, clothing stores, and people. She took a step out and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright sun. Two boys of about seven ran up to her and hugged her legs.

"Morning, Auntie!" they said joyfully.

She lifted her eyebrows and said, "Aren't you two supposed to be at school or something?"

"It's Saturday, silly!" the one on her left leg said.

She put her hands on her hips and looked down at the young Ishbalan boys, Samuel (on her left leg) and Michael (on her right). They were twins and both had white, shoulder length hair pulled into ponytails. Their red eyes were always so bright and innocent when she looked at them; the brightness was in complete contrast to the darkness of their skin. They came up to her mid-thigh and, for some reason, loved wrapping around her legs. They called her aunty because their parents were the first to give her a helping hand when she came to the town Shinto two years before. They were barely five, but they clung to her immediately.

"Well, why aren't you with your friends then?" she asked.

"Mommy said we should keep you distracted so she can surprise you tonight!" Michael replied.

Samuel unwrapped one of his arms to hit Michael.

"Stupid! We weren't supposed to tell her that! Our line was 'We wanna spend time with _you_ though, dear aunty!' remember?" Samuel chastised.

"Sorry! But you didn't have to hit me!" Michael said as tears formed in his eyes.

That was the twins: Samuel, the physical one, and Michael, the emotional one. Ericka rolled her eyes and began prying them off her legs. She bent down to them and wiped Michael's eyes.

"Ok, ok, that's enough, you two. I told your mother not to do anything today, anyways," she said.

"But today's your birthday! You can't say you don't want anything," Michael replied, trying not to cry.

"Yes, I can. I have everything I want. I have a nice place to live, friends," she ruffled their hair, "and two adorable nephews. I don't need anything else."

"But you're supposed to celebrate your birthday! It's the day Ishbala put you into this world and gave you life! You're supposed to show him you're thankful for it," Samuel stubbornly said.

"Trust me; I've gone many a year not celebrating my birthday. I show Ishbala that I'm thankful for my life by living it the very best I can every day; just because a day is my birthday doesn't make it any more important than all the others," Ericka coolly replied.

In truth, she was touched by the twins' family's stubbornness in making sure they celebrate her birthday and that she enjoyed her life in Shinto, as she always was.

"Exactly! You've gone too many years not celebrating your birthday! That's why we _have_ to celebrate it!" they cried in unison.

Ericka chuckled at their reply, knowing that they only heard the first sentence she said. She stood up and took the twins' hands.

"Well, I've just woken up and I've only had a piece of bread, so let's make some breakfast," she said before they walked to her house.

"Yeah! Auntie's food!" they yelled in happy unison.

Ericka sighed as they walked inside the house and began collecting ingredients for breakfast.

33

Scar sat in the back of the hay wagon and waited for the bumpy ride to end. It was a nice day in Central Ishbal; bright and sunny with a slight breeze. Another gust of cool wind blew against the back of Scar's neck. He again pulled out the letter his friend Miles, a partly Ishbalan North Briggs soldier, had mailed him. It was an order from Fuhrer Roy Mustang to Scar that Miles had forwarded since Mustang didn't know Scar's whereabouts. He opened the envelope and read it for the thousandth time, making sure he had read it right the other 999 times.

_Dear Scar,_

_I have a favor to ask of you, to which you are fully free to decline. My little sister, Ericka Anian Mustang, has been in Ishbal for over two years and, for the most part, has sent me a letter every week to tell me how she is and if she is in need of any aid. As of 13 months ago, she has ceased to send me these letters. Were it anyone else in my family I would not take this as seriously and as much to heart as I am now; however, Ericka has yet to show anything but the upmost respect and admiration towards me and I, her. You see, she is of a stubborn nature and does not think she needs the help of others, which, in times of need, is a terrible weakness. I am deeply worried for her and, as private investigators have failed, I must ask you if you could find her. I am deeply and sincerely sorry for having to ask you this, as you and I are not on the best terms, but I will be very grateful to you and deeply in your debt. Please, she is my baby sister and it kills me not to know whether she is okay or not. I hope you understand._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Fuhrer Roy Mustang of Amestria_

Scar had written beck that he had met her a while back and that she said she was going to the town where she was born. He agreed to look for her and that he just needed to know the name of the town. Roy had replied that it was named Shinto, or at least that was what he was told when he called his father about it, and he greatly thanked Scar for agreeing to do so and promised to pay him back one day.

"Ok, we're here, sir; we're at Shinto," the old farmer said as he stopped the wagon at the top of the hill.

Scar began to gather his things and take out the money due when the man asked, "Who are you looking for anyways?"

Scar looked back. "Excuse me?"

"Nobody comes to Shinto unless they're looking for someone or they have family here. Shinto is an old town, with old families and almost no religious temples. Most of the families are extremely religious, but due to a priest's daughter becoming impregnated before she was to be married to another man- and to an Amestrian, no doubt- , the town hardly worships together. A very laid back town, but still, nobody comes here," the farmer replied as he walked towards where Scar was.

Scar hopped off and paid the man his due.

"Even if I told you, I don't believe you would know her," Scar replied.

"Sir, I have to go through this town almost every day; I think there's a good chance I know them," the old man replied, counting the coins.

"Well, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you," Scar replied as he slung his satchel over his shoulders, "Her name is Ericka Mustang."

"Oh, Ms. Mustang; yes, I know her. I can take you to her house, if you like, free of charge," the farmer replied, putting the coins in his pocket.

"If you would, that'd be very helpful," Scar said, climbing back on the wagon.

"Yes, yes; I have to stop by there today, anyways; my wife baked a cake for her. Old hag used up all our flour," the farmer grumbled as he took the reins of his donkey and began to drive again.

333

Ericka cleaned up the table as the boys went to her room to take a morning nap. She didn't blame them; it was a nice summer day with perfect napping weather. The fact that she had a window that faced right towards the breeze at the foot of her bed helped. She heard the squeak of her spring bed as the twins nestled into it. She put the dishes into the water bin and added some soap and let the dishes soak. She was just about to join the twins when a knock came from the entrance.

_Oh, that must be Mr. Jenzie with my vegetables and fruits_, she thought as she went to open the curtain.

She opened the curtain and saw the tall, elderly, Ishbalan man holding a tray with a paper like cover over it.

"Good morning, Mr. Jenzie! Something special from your wife again, I see?" Ericka said politely.

"Yeah; I told her last night of how I heard today was your birthday and she got the idea in her head to make you a cake. Hope it doesn't kill you," Mr. Jenzie replied as he handed her the tray.

He picked up two baskets –one of fruit, the other of vegetables- and put them inside Ericka's door for her.

"And these are my birthday presents; an extra basket with the first pick of yesterday, both free of charge," he said, putting up his hand so that Ericka wouldn't grab some money.

"Oh no, you really don't have to do that, Mr.-"

"No, you don't get to decline the offer of an old farmer. I didn't get you anything last year, and I didn't give you as much of a discount as I would have liked to last year because of economic problems; but this year I can afford to give the baskets to you free, and I will. Besides, it's your birthday, the day Ishbala gave you life; why not celebrate it?" the farmer interrupted.

"So I've been told," Ericka replied laughingly.

"Now, on another note, there's a man that has ridden with me since Kieta. He says he's looking for you. I want you to look at him and tell me whether it's ok that he's here, or if I should shoo him away for you," the farmer said quietly.

Ericka peeked around Mr. Jenzie and recognized the man instantly. Her feelings lightened as she stared at the Ishbalan man with one arm. She came back to Mr. Jenzie and said,

"He's a friend, Mr. Jenzie. Thank you for everything, and tell your wife I appreciate the cake."

"Yeah, I'll tell her you appreciate it now, but I think those feeling will change when you're choking on it," Mr. Jenzie called as he walked off.

Ericka laughed as she placed the cake on the table and the baskets on the stone counter. Priest walked in shortly after and looked around.

"Nice house," he said after a moment of silence.

"Nice house? That's all I get? Even after I almost kissed you?" Ericka replied jokingly, leaning on the table.

Priest blushed as he asked, "You remember that?"

"Girls don't forget things like that," she replied.

"But, please, have a seat," she said, motioning to what was left of her couch.

Priest took a seat and had trouble staying above the floor level.

"Sorry, it's a hand me down from my neighbors," she said nervously as she unwrapped the cake.

She looked at the cake and realized how simple it was. It was a white cake, the only form of icing being a white glaze that read "Happy Birthday, Ericka!" She laughed whole heartedly at the old woman's efforts. She walked to the fruit basket and looked for something to serve with the cake. She saw strawberries, kiwis, and grapes that were to her liking. She took these out of the basket and decided that a few orange pieces would be good with it as well.

Scar watched Ericka from the corner of his eyes, trying to pretend to be looking at the living room. He watched her every move with a keen awareness that was strange even for him. He couldn't help it, it was like he could feel her presence but couldn't believe it without seeing her. He felt her every move, heard every sound she caused, every breath she breathed. When she laughed he felt his whole body fill with joy and almost joined her laughing.

She cut four pieces of cake and placed fruit on each. She placed them on the table and crossed in front of Scar to the bedroom area.

"Sorry, I'll just be a sec," she said to Scar before entering the room.

She came out a few minutes later with two boys who sleepily walked to the table and instantly woke up when they saw the cake.

"Cake!" they happily announced in unison as they picked up their forks and begun cutting bites off.

She slapped their hands and said, "You know the rules; everyone has to be at the table before we start eating."

She beckoned Scar to come to the table. He had trouble getting up and, as he continued to fail, Ericka came over to help him up. With some effort, Scar was finally up and practically hugging Ericka. They were giggling when the boys yelled, "Go get a room!"

"Alright, boys, you've made your point," Ericka said as she backed away from Scar.

They walked to the table as Ericka tried to keep a distance from Priest. She couldn't understand why her defenses fell when he was around. She wanted so badly to be with him, but she knew that would be impossible. She sat across the table from him as they ate the cake. The twins ravished it and soon held their plates towards her.

"More please!" they demanded.

Ericka eyed their untouched glasses of milk and the pieces of kiwi left on their plates: two things the boys hated to consume.

"Not until your milk and kiwis are gone," she chastised as she ate another piece of cake.

"But-"

"No buts. It's either eat your kiwis and drink your milk, or no more cake." she interrupted before putting her glass to her lips.

"Are they yours?" Scar asked before taking a bite of cake.

Ericka choked on her milk and started coughing. She raced to the sink and cured it with water. She looked up towards Priest, gasping from the short lack of air.

"What the hell gave you that idea, Alchemic Priest?" she asked.

"You just seemed to act like their mother to me," he replied.

"Well, I'm not," she replied, walking back to the table.

Scar noticed she was wearing a silver ring on her left ring finger.

"But you are married?" he asked, nearly knocking Ericka out of her chair.

She stood up before saying, "Ok, that's it; get all your questions out so I don't nearly die over here."

The show seemed to amuse the twins because they were laughing. She glared at them.

"One: no, I didn't give birth to these brats, they're my neighbors' kids; and two: I'm not married, nor do I ever plan to be, ok? Anything else?"

"But you're wearing a silver wedding ring," Priest replied, pointing at the ring.

Ericka looked down at it and put the hand out of sight.

"It was my mother's ring; a promise ring my father gave her. I found it when I was led to her house. It was burned down, you know; she wasn't somebody's favorite, apparently," she soberly said, trying to not think too much of the image.

"Oh, sorry," Priest said, creating an awkward silence.

The twins quietly ate their kiwis and drank their milk (reluctantly, of course), reading the air. Ericka sat back down and finished her food. She smiled after a last gulp of milk.

"Who wants to go take a walk to the market?" she said, trying to energize the twins.

The twins brightened up and said, "We do, we do!"

Ericka stood up and smiled at Priest, who had finished his food a while before.

"How about it? Wanna go to the market with us?" Ericka asked.

Priest smiled.

"Sure."

3333

Roy Mustang sat in the back seat of the car. It was a long drive to the entrance of Fort Briggs, and then it was a five mile walk to the actual Fort Briggs. Mustang sighed as he contemplated how utterly tiring it would be to walk all that way in the freezing cold; but he was Fuhrer now and he had a duty to keep on good business terms with every station, or at least try. He shuddered as he imagined General Armstrong's death stare pointed in his direction.

"Are you alright, sir?" Lieutenant (now General) Hawkeye asked from across the back seat.

"Must you still call me 'sir', Riza? We _are_ engaged now, you know; you don't have to be so formal," Mustang complained, placing his hand on Hawkeye's leg with a seductive smile.

Hawkeye swatted his hand away, causing a pout from his face which was answered with a stern look.

"We may be engaged, but we're still working. I will stop being informal when we are off duty, understand?" she replied, always being the responsible one; a trait Mustang loved.

He sighed a soul deep sigh, wishing that an engagement could give him a free pass to do whatever he wanted with Hawkeye (he tried his best to call her Riza, even in his thoughts, but he was too used to Hawkeye); and yet, he knew that she wouldn't let anyone, not even her fiancé, stop her from being a responsible and stern worker.

_Just wait until the wedding night, Riza Hawkeye_, he thought to himself.

"I will, sir," Hawkeye said, as if reading his thoughts.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Mustang exclaimed.

"I've known you that long, that's why, sir," she replied.

"Actually, you said it out loud, sir," the driver said, trying not to laugh.

Hawkeye smiled; a small smile, but still, a smile.

Mustang turned from the both of them so they wouldn't see him embarrassed. He soon felt a feminine hand. He recognized it instantly and laced their fingers together. He peeked a glance at Hawkeye who was smiling to herself. Mustang smiled to himself and looked out the window as the car stopped.

_Fort Briggs, here I come._

33333

Miles walked down the main hall to the outside guarding area. He looked out for the two figures that were expected to make an appearance: Fuhrer Roy Mustang and (future) Lady Fuhrer/ General Riza Hawkeye Mustang. He looked out into the white wasteland and soon found the dark figures. He ordered an alert be made to the men at the entrance to be waiting for them with _free_ coffee and warm wrappings. His order was followed as he looked out and watched the figures come closer. He smiled as he noticed they were a little closer than necessary to emit body heat to each other.

_Newlyweds; well, almost,_ he thought.

He walked back to Major General Armstrong's office and awaited them at the doors. They came up the stairs sooner than he expected, but he knocked on the doors nonetheless.

"Come in," the strict female voice that belonged to Major General Armstrong said.

Miles opened the doors for the couple and stood at attention. He soon followed in and stood at attention in front of the doors, in the room but not quite.

"At ease, Miles," the General said from her seat.

Miles relaxed and went to stand by her. He watched as Mustang took off the layer of electric blankets and sat down in that confident way of his. He grinned at the Briggs General as he crossed a leg over the other. His grin annoyed the General.

"Wasn't being blind supposed to make you more humble?" she asked, not entirely polite.

"Not necessarily, but I do appreciate things more now," he replied.

Mustang had become blind when he was forced to open the portal, but his sight returned when Doctor Marco used the philosopher's stone to heal his eyes, after healing Hawkeye, of course.

Hawkeye shot a stern look at him, sending some message he could read without having to look at her. His manner left it's confident and carefree posture it had before and traded it for a more serious and stern look.

"Actually, I know I'm only supposed to be here for inspection, but I have a favor to ask of you, Major General Armstrong," he said, straightening his back and uncrossing his legs.

"And that would be?" General Armstrong asked, smiling as if she were now intrigued.

Mustang looked at Miles.

"I would like to borrow your Lieutenant, if you don't mind," he said.

"To do what?"

"Show me around Ishbal. I don't know the country too well, at least for where I need to go."

"And your reasoning for going there is?"

"My little sister has ceased to send me feedback and I am very worried for her."

"My soldier is not a detective, Fuhrer."

"I know; which is why I'm asking politely. Decline, if you must, but I would really appreciate you allowed me to use him."

"If you were still a General, I would decline in a heartbeat; but since you _are_ Fuhrer now, I suppose I must agree," she replied after a moment of silence.

"Great, glad you understand," Mustang replied, smiling.

He soon stood up, followed by Hawkeye, and left, motioning for Miles to follow him. Miles did so without hesitation and quickly grabbed an emergency leave bag from the front before leaving to take the five mile walk.

333333

Ericka woke up lazily and realized there were a couple of small bodies stretched over her.

"Damn sleep movers," she muttered in annoyance.

She got up, managing to keep from waking the twins, and realized she had stayed the night at her neighbors' house. It was the morning after her "surprise" birthday party and her stomach still hurt from the massive amount of cake she had eaten. She walked outside of the room and looked for her bag of gifts. She found it by the couch where Priest was sleeping. She stopped and started trying to wake him up. He brushed her off with a turn of the shoulder.

"Deep sleeper, huh?"

She was about to trust fall him awake when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to the window and saw a cat walking in the alley.

"Cat!"

She jumped out the window and managed to catch the cat while turning to land on her back.

"Well, finding you was easier than expected," a familiar voice said from the beginning of the alleyway.

Ericka looked over and smiled while petting the cat (who was strangely calm after what just happened).

"Hi, Roy!" she said happily.


End file.
